Heartbeat
by carbonatedlemonade
Summary: Annabeth Chase really did not need another problem. As the bassist and manager of her band, Olympian, she couldn't help but feel responsible for their drummer Luke's resignation. She may come off as a bit of a badass with her rock band and couldn't-care attitude, but underneath, she's panicking. Maybe a certain replacement can change that... Dedicated to all you musicians out there
1. chapter 1

When Fredrick Chase heard he was to expect a daughter, he was overjoyed. His own little girl-sweet as teacakes, happy as a songbird, delicate as a butterfly's wing, beautiful as a desert rose. He was ready for the challenge of boys and makeup and crop tops/short shorts. He was ready to raise his perfect little girl.

Sorry to disappoint.

Because I'm not silly enough to think you're actually interested in my backstory, I'll try to keep it short.

My name is Annabeth Chase and I am 16 years old. I love reading (when I can) but mostly--I love music. I play bass in my band, Olympian, as I have done for about three years now.

I've had one boyfriend, but I won't go into the details... not quite ready for that one. Maybe another day. But quite possibly not.

My parents aren't around much. Too busy working. The phones ringing, keyboards clicking, lawsuits filing, parents yelling, and people suing gets a bit tiresome at times--but I don't mind. More time to practice, I suppose.

I attend Goode High School in New York, but I'm not happy about it (you might say it's not a Goode situation)(you might also say that now is not the time for obvious puns but I wouldn't care). I feel a bit out of place there. Not in the "I'm just a girl who suffers for my music and none of you fools understand my artistry *sounds of anguish*" kind of way but in a "hey some friends that I can relate to would be really cool" kind of way.

Not to say I am friendless--I get by with my best friend Thalia Grace, guitarist extraordinaire. Yeah, I'd put up with her and her antics and her devious smirk forever--she may seem like she couldn't care, but she's got a big heart under all that leather and those tattoos (that her parents definitely authorized).

In terms of looks, I try not to worry myself about it too much. My clothes aren't exciting but not librarianish--have to admit, not a lot of color in there.

My blonde/brown hair had a bit of wave to it, but I always have it out of my face in some hairstyle.

While I may be a bit obsessive, my life has turned out pretty okay. I must be doing something right.

Right?

"Wrong. Second verse, ninth measure. With the pickup" I called to my bandmates, squinting at my sheet music as my friends groaned in the background.

"Annabeeeeth," Luke complained, slumped over his snare drum. "It sounded fine. I even did the thing that you wanted with the" insert a cappella drum solo (that sounded way better than what he actually played).

Luke was an interesting kid. Pretty good drummer, football player (have to admit he was good there), and most annoying kid to grace the face of planet earth. But he organized the band, so we couldn't necessarily kick him out. And honestly, I couldn't tell if he wanted to leave. At school I practically had to make excuses to get away from him, but in band he was always angry with me. As I said, interesting.

"Great, but do you want to sound fine or do you want to sound good?" I said to him, scowling. I loved our band, and I didn't want them to think I didn't appreciate their effort. But I found it hard to relax when I didn't have one song up to my desired level currently. Besides, we wouldn't be able to play at Olympus at this rate. "Thalia, even triplets and turn down the gain. Leo, nice job, but more dynamics. Piper, more confident towards the end of the chorus. And before you guys get started on me, I am aware that I played in the wrong key for the beginning of the bridge. Yes?" I caught my breath, then turned to Luke. "Your tempo is everywhere. Less sixteenth notes, pushes the swing. Fix that, add some fills between sections, and switch up your cymbals between chorus and verse. Okay?" I explained, trying to be as nice as I could. But from the look on his face, it wasn't working well. His blue eyes were cold and guarded; you'd think I insulted his mother. After about three seconds, he spoke again.

"Please quit it with the 'I'm the Queen of the Band' crap. Honestly, it's obnoxious." Luke spat. "If we are so terrible and you are just so fantastic, why do we even bother trying to please her majesty?" His voice rose in volume and anger with every word. I sighed, absentmindedly adjusting my bass strap. I shouldn't have angered the guy with the pointy sticks.

"Luke, lose the drama queen act, alright? I just want it to be good-"

"If I'm not good enough, then fine." He stood up and shouldered his bag, glaring as he went. I was almost happy, but of course:

"Don't go! Annabeth didn't mean it, she's just on edge. You sounded really good," Piper lied, trying to convince her crush not to leave. She played with the braid on the side of her head and pouted, leaning on Leo's piano as he rolled his eyes (Leo wasn't big on the Castellean ship, or as he referred to it; Puke).

I love Piper, I hated Piper in love. She got all... bleh. She changed herself for guys more than she should--she believed her strong independent woman personality condemned her chances at love. Quite frankly, her personality change was just another upside to Luke leaving.

Piper was about to fake cry as Luke just looked confused and left my garage, slamming the door.

"Ughhhhhhh," Now Leo's complaining. God, we've complained more than played today. "Annie, hate to break it to you, but we need a drummer. Unless one of us could multitask singing so Piper could play piano so I could play drums, or Piper could learn drums, or there's this hobo I know-"

"No. We need a drummer." I said, thinking about a replacement. "Let's call it a day, ok? But let's have some fun with this," I added, watching them in confusion. "By next practice, which is three days from now, might I add--we all must have a drumming candidate. We vote for a drummer. Whoever's drummer is picked gets bragging rights."

"And $20," Thalia sleepily added from her beanbag, where she had been asleep for the past 20 minutes. "I know just who to pick."

"Great. See you guys Monday."

"Bye!"

"Adios."

"I'll just... five more minutes..."

Thalia.

~Drummer interviews~

Annabeth

Walking home, I tried to think of who to suggest. So it was 5:20 now, our next practice was 3:30 Monday, plenty of time. I knew only one person who may possibly play, as he seemed to play everything. I pulled out my phone and called him up.

"Hey, sorry to bother you, but I have a proposal." I began.

"Before you continue, I am too young to get married," -cue eye roll- "and who is this?"

"Oh, uhh, Annabeth. See, my band is looking for a new drummer-"

"Thought Luke was your drummer?"

"Don't interrupt. He left. Do you play by chance?" I asked, biting my lip and bouncing on the balls of my feet.

"Yeah, two years. And if you need a sax, rhythm guitarist, accordionist, or pianist-I got you."

"Awesome, you don't need too much experience. As long as you can play, we are good."

"Well then, I hope I can join."

"I'll let you know. Call you back Monday."

After hanging up the very brief phone call, I began to worry. I hadn't asked nearly enough, what was his skill level? Genre of choice? Does he have a kit? Who knows, but he can play... And that's all we need right now. I continued the walk home with a skip in my step but a frown on my face, torn as to how this would turn out.

Thalia

Dude, I have this in the bag. No further explanation required. I should have put more money on it, as I was considering upgrading my pickups. I dialed him, and he picked up on the second ring.

"Wassup, old friend?"

"Thalia, I'm busy."

"Yeah? Well I am too, but I am taking my invaluable time to talk to you, so you could at least return the favor."

I could practically hear him roll his eyes. "Whaddya need?"

"A drummer. Well, a replacement for Luke, but yeah--a drummer. For Olympian. You in?"

"Gonna need a bit more information."

"Fine." I said. "Luke is gone. Band needs drummer. You are drummer. You good drummer. You wouldn't annoy the crap out of Annabeth. We would all thank the gods for a drummer Annie doesn't glare at on a minutely basis. I'd give you $10. Ok? Ok. Thanks for helping, call you back Monday"

"Ah ah ah, I haven't agreed. Why me?"

"You've played in three bands. You have 6 years of experience. You have good taste. And $10. Call you Monday." I finished, and hung up. I am a rather to-the-point person, but this guy is going to be great, I know it. And I also know Annie wouldn't kill him, it's a win win situation. Smiling at my phone screen, I turned it off to get to work on Eruption.

Leo

The others thought they had the upper hand with their fancy players in fancy bands with actual group experience... But I had a secret weapon. A player so epic you would pass out just just watching her. A secret baller no one knew about because she was like a musical fox, slipping behind the trees and in and out of shrubbery, always one step ahead of the game-

-Sissy! :P

Yep, my sissy poo.

-Don't call me that :( now what's up

-want to play drums for our band? You're pretty decent

-thanks. Means a lot

-but seriously, you bring out the best in other players and your kit is SWEEET :D

-Leo I'm this close to punching you when I get home

-uhh fine but pleeeeeaasse I mean you have like three years of practice it's time to join a band

-ok. You owe me.

-yay :D I'll tell you Monday

-Bye

This will be great for her. She needs to break out of her shell, find some friends. I'm sure she'll get it. I'm sure.

Piper

I was actually very excited at the prospect of a new drummer. I've had a crush on this guy for a year, and now I'd finally have a chance to spend some time with him. Besides, my friends owe me after Luke left. Smiling to myself, I reached to my bedside table to retread our conversation.

-Heyy ;)

-Hey

-Would you be up for drumming in our band? It would be great to be able to hang out

-What band?

-Olympian... The one I've been in since I was 12?

-Ooooh. I mean I'm only a casual player, that ok?

-Yeah totally! :D

-Cool, I'd be up for it. When?

-I'll get back to you Monday.

-k

-Goodnight 3

-Night ;)

I've got this in the bag. Besides, my friends owe me. He's smart and kind and I just need a bit of time to get him to like me back...

AN Hello there friends!

I wrote this story under the name SteamingCoffee about a year ago, but I got locked out of my account and I am starting anew. I'm republishing the old chapters, edited and up to date. Hoping to be at least 2 times a week until school starts.

Honestly reviews are my favorite thing on earth so even if you just want to tell me your favorite song, fruit, color, whatever, it's so cool to know that real people read my stuff. Honestly. So cool. Have a lovely day ~

Lizzie


	2. Chapter 2

**AN So here's chapter two!**

 **Can I just take a second though to say I love you guys SO MUCH best readers ever honestly 10/10 would recommend beautiful wonderful sweethearts right here JESUS I am so excited for this story. 5 Reviews???? 7 followers???? 4 favorites???????? I love you all. Reviews make me so happy, just seriously anything. Favorite song. Your opinions on hot pockets. Jam or jelly. I love it all so much it's just so cool sorry I'll stop rambling**

 **I just wanted to do a quick update in thanks for all the support--next chappie will be longer, promise.**

 **marianthilouka1954: thank you so much! First reviewer ever, you get a gold star my friend ;)**

 **fthorne333: I agree. Green is a great color. Recently, though, I've been really liking this orangish-peachish-salmon color? It's cool. Can't really describe it lol**

 **AnyaPeterson: absolutely darlin 3 hope you enjoy!**

 **PuppyLove84: Ay fellow musician! That's so cool, I wish I were as multitalented as you honestly dude. You have any song suggestions for this story? And aww so glad you like it**

 **Sibyis Langdon: Thank you so so much for your support!**

 **On with the story!!**

Annabeth

After all of the confusion of the meeting, I was happy to walk home alone with my thoughts. Sounds pathetic, but sometimes I just need a bit of me-time.

Which sounds sweet, but me-time is actually just panicking to myself. My parents were visiting in a week.

My parents were never very supportive of music. They liked to listen to cocktail-party jazz and some classical, but when it came to me wanting to be a musician--they were in no way jumping for joy.

At first, ten-year-old me was encouraged to be musical. My mother thought it would be sweet for her little girl to play the violin or flute in her middle school ensemble. Sweet. Cute. Adorable, even. But when I we a rock band playing in the park downtown, my mom wasn't happy when I asked "Mommy, can I be like _her_?" And pointed to the girl on stage with the purple hair and a mischievous grin, head banging and killing her bass solo. Her face contorted into something so disgusted, you'd think I pointed to a homeless man with three heads.

They found me a bass at a garage sale to "cheer me up" after telling me my mom was going to start working again, now that I was a "big girl" and could care for myself. I remember my father handing it over, his aging face looking hopeful but a bit smug, like he was waiting for me to throw my arms around him and squeal "Thank you daddy!! I always wanted a piece of shit like this!"

Not to be rude.

I loved the bass as a bass, but my parents were millionaires. They did this to discourage me. They wanted to be able to say "See, you didn't actually want to play bass. We got you a bass and you don't touch it!"

The strings were almost rusted through, and a few holes were screwed into the body where a pickgaurd once was placed. Turning it over, I realized this had electronics in it--and they rattled as I moved it. I'd need a cable and an amplifier. The iguana green was faded and rubbed through in places, and the metal was rusty. I looked up at my mother, who was smirking at me. Like she was waiting for me to hate it. From that day on, I knew I would never let her underestimate me again.

"I _love_ it."

So three years later of hard practicing and online tutorials, i decided to hell with my parents. I'm going to get myself a real bass--I saved up all my allowances, sold some of my stuff on eBay, and shoveled a whole lotta snow to cover the $650 price tag as a thirteen year old. My pride and joy. Stained with sapphire blue (and my own tears), it was beautiful. It played like a dream, and every day that I got to play my Ibanez SR500 was better because of it. But ever since I began to take bass more seriously, my parents drifted further and further away. I did not want to deal with them at such a hard time.

As I trudged along, case in hand and the fetus of a plan in my brain, the sun began to set on New York.

The city at night was my favorite place to be. I loved the look of people's faces illuminated by the neon signs and yellow street lamps. I loved the smells from all of the filling restaurants. I loved the ghost of music that lingered in the air from a performer a few blocks away.

The boring suburbs I walked through now seemed a million miles from that city. The little trees that were all planted even distances apart lined the perfectly paved road, the quaint houses had brighter windows the darker the sky got.

I switched my case over to my other arm, my right arm getting tired.

"Ah, a musician?" A girl's voice jolted me, pulling me out of the city. I nearly dropped my bass when I jumped. When I turned to look at her, I could tell she wasn't a threat. The girl had blazing red hair tamed into a messy topknot, dressed in jeans and a hilighter-yellow sweatshirt, and was just closing the door to her house behind her.

The girl laughed, and spoke still smiling, "didn't mean to startle you," she said as she walked next to me, and gestured for me to keep walking.

"I wasn't startled. Just wasn't expecting strangers to jump out of houses at me," I tried to defend. The girl didn't seem to buy it, raising an eyebrow.

"Okay then. Sorry for the "surprise attack"," she took her hands out of her pockets to put in air quotes, "So, my original question--you a musician?" Looking pointedly at my red case.

"Nah, I just carry around an instrument for fun. Makes my walks home far more interesting, and I also think it makes me look _so_ cool." I explained with a straight face.

She nodded knowingly, "Ah, of course. You see--I, too, have such a ploy. Sometimes I carry around paintbrushes and easels as a workout. I'm getting pretty ripped, as you can tell," gesturing to her thin arms, "and I, also, think it makes me look so very cool."

Could get used to this girl. Liking her sarcasm.

"How long have you been a fake artist for?" Annabeth asked, suppressing a smile and glancing over to her new friend.

Her face lit up as she replied, "Seven years formally. Forever informally. But we all doodled as kids," she shrugged, "so I don't count that. What about you, fake guitarist? How long?"

"Been lugging this thing around about 6 years. And I'm no flashy, show-offy guitarist. I'm a _bassist. Bassists_ put in excessive work and dedication for no one to care about their existence, only being noticed when they mess up. _Guitarists_ noodle around for thirty seconds and get _all_ the attention--"

"Sorry, feel like I hit a sensitive spot there," the redhead laughed. Blushing, I tried to make excuses for defending my kind. I have to admit, there are many talented guitarists. But I am sick of the assumption that my case can only hold a guitar. Seriously.

"No, I'm sorry for ranting. Annabeth, by the way," I extended my hand.

Her green eyes twinkled, "Rachel Dare." She said proudly, shaking my hand. "Want to pretend to be friends to look cool?"

I laughed. I laughed a lot with this girl. "Sounds great."

"Well then. Here is my stop," Rachel announced, pointing to a pale house with a red roof across the street, "and here is my card. Have a lovely evening," she bid, and disappeared into the small house.

I shook my head--this girl really had her own _business cards_? Looking at the small lamentaré paper she put in my hand, I read out loud to myself; "Rachel Dare: Artist Extraordinaire. Please contact me with any business inquiries". This chick was for real.

All the pale houses I passed made me calm, for some reason. This was so comforting and quaint. It was beautiful in its own respect, but the city was the overall goal.

Living downtown as a successful musician, close to all the venues and live music and important people. Seeing people's faces in the lights and the bustling cafes and the saxophonists on the corners. _Being_ a face in the light and bustling into cafes with my band mates and playing on the corner _knowing_ I won't get any money but not caring at all. That's the goal here. And it starts with Olympus.

So busy in my daydream, I didn't see the rock on the sidewalk-- if I wasn't in my daydream, I wouldn't have thought about it. If I hadn't tripped I wouldn't have _cared_ about it. If I hadn't fallen I wouldn't be mentioning it now.

And if I hadn't hit my case so hard on the way down

I wouldn't have opened it up to check my bass.

I wouldn't have sprinted home to plug it in to my amp.

And I wouldn't have completely broken down

like my SR500 had on the sidewalk.


End file.
